


Crappy Campers, Campy Crap

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Humanstuck, Multi, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A really weird comedy of sorts. A selection of beloved Homestuck characters are thrown into a summer camp in the middle of nowhere, where they will experience everything from mild romance to over-the-top outdoor activities, all while enjoying the mosquitoes and malaria which nature has to offer.</p><p>"★★★★★" — Literally no one<br/> "A thrilling epic of impressive depth and fantastic humor." — No reviewer ever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cabin 13

**Author's Note:**

> Don't say the name of the camp in French class, probably. Also, I'm pretty sure approximately -50% of all readers will think this is funny? I don't know. I wrote a fic based off of the results of Gigapause polling. Um... Comment with commentary and things?

The old, beaten-up bus rambled to a bumpy stop before its destination's equally worn out signpost.

Camp Fion, a secluded mountain camp for children ages five to seventeen, was known for its rustic charm. And, as far as the camp's last arrival before it closed its gates for the summer was concerned, "rustic charm" meant something more akin to "camping, but with shitty little huts instead of tents and poor to inoperable plumbing."

This final arrival to the camp was Dave Strider, a self-proclaimed cool kid with a penchant for fashionably out-of-touch sunglasses.

"What a damned dump."

The camp's newest member scuffed the finely polished white tip of his Converse shoe against a nearby rock and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He scoffed at the cheerful signs scattered around the area and took note of the 'no trespassing" warnings which littered the hallowed camp grounds. Then, he gathered his things-a single suitcase of clothing, a sling bag of general necessities (such as the required soap, toothpaste, and so on), and a rather weighty gym bag. The latter container was stuffed to the brim with that which Dave deemed necessary to have fun-his phone, iPod, towels, lotion, and a small radio.

As he went about gathering his things from where he had dropped them, the bus pulled away. Its old, under-maintained suspension let forth a ear-grating squeal as the vehicle dipped into a moderate pothole in the dirt road prior to rocketing away from the area. In its wake, a cloud of dust and sand hung in the air, like a curtain which smelled mildly of burning rubber.

And, so it is that Dave found himself alone, staring at a winding dirt path which, if the sickeningly cheerful signage was correct, ultimately led to the actual facility.  
To be quite honest, he would have preferred to stay at home. In fact, he briefly pondered the possiblity of booking the high hell out of the desolate woodlands he'd been dropped in. However, he decided against doing so. For one thing, he reasoned, he had no idea where he was. For all he knew, he could have actually discovered a colony of sentient crocodiles. Furthermore, there didn't seem to be anywhere to run to. The closest settlement of any sort that he recalled passing was a good two hours away by bus, he dared not to think of how long it would take to walk.

With such rationale, Dave huffed an expletive and collected his belongings. Then, he made his way down the overgrown path.

After some time-say, perhaps, two or three minutes, though such a period is no laughing matter-he wandered up to a rusty chain link gate. It stood about ten feet high and was topped by barbed wire. This, he assumed, was either to keep the intruders out or the children in. Or, perhaps, it was for both reasons. It might have even been some sort of otherworldly third reason. Whatever it was for, it didn't matter, for it was pretty damn intimidating. Similarly intimidating was the older teenager slumped against the gate with a thick book in his hands.

Dave ignored the boy, though, and focused on finding his assigned cabin. With confident stride, he cantered up to the gate and, with a great deal of pomp and fanfare, he smacked into its rusty metal mesh. "Damn," he murmured.

"What the fuck!?" called the boy, who Dave had just sought to ignore. "You have fucking shit for brains or something? The gate's locked. You have to actually wait for a few goddamn seconds."

"You could've told me so," called Dave.

"You could have used a bit of goddamn common sense," the older boy scoffed as he began to pry the gate open. "You're Dave Strider, I'm guessing? Whatever. I'm Karkat, your cabin leader," he travestied. Perhaps goaded by such pointed witticism, the gate's main pole finally lodged itself free of the hole in which it was lodged and flung open. The boy, meanwhile, gave a dismissive wave of his hand towards the cluster surprisingly attractive cabins behind him. "You're in cabin thirteen. Have a fucking blast."

Dave nodded in reply and silently shuffled off towards the housing accommodations. He walked into the circular cluster and began going counter-clockwise.

Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen.

He eagerly bounded over the two steps to the door and flung open the passageway. No one. He was alone. Again.

But, now, he was excited for such loneliness. To think! He wouldn't have to bother with anyone bothering him at night or deal with someone else. Driven by this discovery, he began to gaily set out his things. He began with his laptop and, after roughly twenty minutes, ended by placing his radio on the shelf alongside the head of the room's bunk bed.  
Satisfied with his skillful handiwork and the lay of his room, he determined that it was time to explore his surroundings. After all, he would be stuck here for the rest of his vacation, only one week of which had passed prior to his arrival.

As he turned to leave the building, however, he found himself staring at a black-haired teen.

 


	2. The Art of Camping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to write incredibly short chapters because comedy writing is about content? IDEK. That's my excuse.

"Who the hell are you?" mumbled the completely baffled newcomer and current resident of the cabin. "What are you doing in my cabin?"

"Wow! Everyone here is just so goddamn charming!" yelled an exasperated Dave Strider. "What? Does everyone at this camp have sticks jammed up your fucking asses?"

The boy at the door, still completely baffled by the _real_  newcomer's complete absurdity and rather vulgar mouth, shrugged. "I don't think so. I mean... At least... I don't have a stick up my ass. I think I'd notice if I did."

Dave groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well, aren't you just the dimmest bulb in the box? It's a saying. Who the hell are you, anyhow? What the hell're you doing in my cabin?"

"Well... Actually... This is my cabin..."

_"They didn't tell me I had a goddamn roommate. What the ever-loving fu-?"_

The response is cut short by what could easily be mistaken for a rumble of thunder, were it not accompanied by the raucus thumping and clanging of the cabin's doorknob. Indeed, such a commotion prompted both inhabitants of the run-down little building to turn towards the door and, just as they did, it slammed open. Both boys thus found themselves staring at another camper-a girl whose features were rather similar to those of the current cabin inhabitant's.

"John! I'm here to fix the toi..." The girl paused. Her eyes darted from John to Dave, then back to Dave. "...let. Um..."

"Oh, well that's why it smelled like the backside of a dead donkey in here, I guess," Dave shrugged. "So, hey, who's this? Your girlfriend or something?"

"Ew!" John gasped. "She's my _half-sister_. That's disgusting!"

"Well, so's a broken toilet. And how long've you been living with that foul wreck?"

"About a week," the girl responded matter-of-factly.

"Jade!" groaned John. "You didn't need to tell him that."

"Hm," the girl, Jane, shrugged. "Whatever. I'll come fix the toilet some other time. I've got furry porn to write, anyhow."

"Gross! You didn't need to say that either," John responded as the door clicked shut.

Having grown tired of the entire affair, Dave wandered over to his bed and threw himself upon it. "Quit your belly-aching," he called to his apparent roommate. "I'm listening to music." With this said, he slipped on a pair of ridiculously expensive-looking headphones and proceeded to completely ignore everything around him. Clearly, through some sort of boredom-induced revelation, Dave had mastered the art of camping.


End file.
